


The Things We Miss

by nyxnarciss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, BDSM, Doctor/Patient, F/F, F/M, Human Gabriel, Multi, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Sex Work, Sub Dean, gabriel doctor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:45:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxnarciss/pseuds/nyxnarciss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a whisky fog and fetish clubs to a California beach and a fresh start. Can Dean out run the demons determined to drag him back to hell?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Miss

There was something blaring in his head. Try as he might he couldn’t figure out why the radio in the impala was cranking out that horrible screeching sound instead of the usual Zeppelin. Dean slowly cracked open his eyes and his alarm clock glowing out the much later than expected time. 

“Shit!” he was going to be late.

Jumping out of bead and shaking off the whiskey fog from the night before, dean searched for his clothes, throwing on his well-worn leather jacket and construction boots and darted for the door. Half way down the steps he realized his phone was nowhere to be found. Sliding to a stop he retraced his steps and found the damn cell phone wrapped up in his recently emptied covers. Now he had even less time.

Dean couldn’t afford to be late he needed this job no matter now shitty it was. And Michael was a dick about punctuality.   
Finally fully dressed, half awake and pissed off, Dean made the 20 minute drive in half the time running in the door of Club Triton with seconds to spare. Looking around at the seedy club dean reminded himself he still worked in the hidden basement of the club, a shit job for shit cash.

Sammy, all his decisions always come back to Sammy. 

His little brother had graduated high school and his smart ass had gotten out of town, gone to college and gotten a “real” life. Dean had made sure of that.

He had tried to find a real job after he dropped out of school to support the two of them. He made it a whole 3 months of flipping burgers before he knocked out his annoying pimply manager after than he had a string of half ass jobs since they settled in Sioux Falls, all so Sammy’s future was taken care of. 

John, Dean and Sam’s dead beat dad had run off with some hooker named Meg a while back. Dean was devastated, Sam wasn’t surprised and he didn’t hide his anger and betrayal from Dean when Bobby Singer had to come get them off the streets. He’d always accuse Dean of being just like their dad when his teen age anger took hold. 

Dean started to hate his dad after that, and he hated Meg even more. He blamed her for splitting up their family even though it was inevitable that John would abandon them somewhere. But even though he hated her, Meg was the reason that Dean was able to put Sam through college and help keep the lights on in the singer household. Even if in the process he came to hate himself. 

X X X x X X X

The downstairs of the Triton club was a fetish club where the rich and powerful paid to take out their dirties fantasies on willing albeit paid individuals like Dean. It wasn’t the best place to work but it was definitely better than the alley out back, Dean knew. 

He hurried to get into his uniform unnoticed but Michael noticed him struggling and his lateness. With one look dean knew he would get the shit jobs again tonight. He would get stuck taking the darker, nastier clients everyone fought not to serve. 

“Winchester” Michael grouched, “your first client is in room 4 don’t keep them waiting or it’s your ass.” Dean knew he wasn't talking figuratively, he kept a client waiting and he would be punished before the session was out. 

Walking towards the door Dean cleared his mind and walked through the door. Instantly kneeling into position, he glanced at the client’s shoes, Leather and designer. The man’s cologne instantly dredge up dark memories, stiffening he realized his mistake. 

Alistair.

“Good evening pet.”  
X X X X X X X

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this chapter so long ago and there is more to it if I could find my notes. I can not remember if it was a Dean/Cas or Dean/Gabriel.... I am inspired to continue it and would love feedback and suggestions


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